


Something So Magic About You

by champagne_for_breakfast



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, M/M, after the apocalypse, based on the end of the show, slow burn that's taking 6000 years apparently
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 09:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19104037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/champagne_for_breakfast/pseuds/champagne_for_breakfast
Summary: "To the world", he says. It's not what Crowley means, though.I love you, is what he means.I'm so glad the apocalypse didn't happen. I'm so happy you are not dead. I was so scared. Do you know how much you mean to me? I have always loved you.





	Something So Magic About You

**Author's Note:**

> I had the idea for this fic last night and I just had to write it.
> 
> This is for both Karolin and Theresa, who have been nothing but positive in supporting my obsession with Good Omens.
> 
> Title is from "From Eden" by Hozier, undoubtedly the one song that fits Crowley and Aziraphale's realtionship the best.

"To the world", he says. It's not what Crowley means, though.

 _I love you_ , is what he means. _I'm so glad the apocalypse didn't happen. I'm so happy you are not dead. I was so scared. Do you know how much you mean to me? I have always loved you._

He doesn't actually say any of that. Not yet. Not now. They just survived the apocalypse that wasn't. They are at the Ritz. They have survived the worst Heaven and Hell had to offer to them. So now Crowley doesn't have a reason to say any of his thoughts out loud.

He would have had all the reasons before the apocalypse. Even before they swapped bodies and got captured by the other side, respectively. But not now. Now is just like before.

Like the last 6000 years.

" _To the world_ ", is what Aziraphale says. But Crowley hears something else. There are so many feelings in the angel's words.

 _I love you_ , is what Crowley hears. And he isn't sure whether Aziraphale knows that or not.

"We should go back to the bookshop afterwards. I still got some Moet."

"That would be lovely."

And does the angel notice that he's getting closer?

Crowley of couse sees him lean in closer as he's beginning to tell the story of how he was treated in heaven. How he found his way towards Madame Tracy. How he rebelled against direct orders to fight in a war neither of them wanted.

He is only half listening, though. There is something about the way Aziraphale tells his story. There's a new edge to it. A sass, cheek, that hasn't been there before. And Crowley wonders what else hasn't been there before.

It's not long after that they decide to leave the Ritz and go back to the bookshop, after all there is a nice bottle of champagne waiting for them.

It's just like before the apocalypse that wasn't. But... also it isn't.

There is something hanging in the air, unsaid. It doesn't need to be said, of course. It has never been said before. The world doesn't need to hear it for it to be there.

But it leaves Crowley restless, fidgeting on the couch. Watching the beverage in his glass swish around whenever he swirls it in his fingers.

"-are you listening, my dear?" he hears the angel's voice.

"Of course I am". It would be more believable if his words weren't quite as slurred.

"I was saying, my dear, that there is something we ought to talk about," Aziraphale says, again apparently. Ah, so he was waiting for a response, got it.

Crowley takes another sip. "And that would be?"

"I was thinking..." There's a pregnant pause in which Aziraphale seems to gather his thoughts. The alcohol certainly seems to make it a hard task.

So he repeats: "I was thinking... we could move in together?"

And that's it. There's along pause. The earth may have halted on its turn around the sun. Time was certainly frozen. It had to be.

"...excuse me?"

"We could move in together? I mean, of course I would like to keep the bookshop. And it has the back room, but that would be too small to accomodate both of us. You know, your house plants alone need a seperate room. So I thought, I could move some of my belongings into your apartment, if that doesn't bother you. Obviously we won't need a second bed, or another couch... I would take some books with-"

"Angel. Wait." Crowley's brain is too slow to keep up with Aziraphale's muttering. Move in together? What does that mean, for Go-, Sa-, _somebody's_ sake?! "Slow down and explain again."

Aziraphale's eyes are growing bigger. It seems like he has lost his words. As if he can't quite believe that Crowley couldn't follow his line of thinking – which usually isn't the case, mind you. Usually, they think very similar things, that's what makes it so easy for them to be... _friends_.

If there were such things as airquotes that could be conveyed without the obvious gesture for it, they would certainly be suited for this very special word. Of course, Crowley and Aziraphale are _friends_.

As much as Aziraphale and Oscar Wilde had been _friends_ back when Crowley had been sleeping for a century.

His breath catches in his throat and Aziraphale feels like he is choking on air.

"I thought..." again, he has to clear his throat for the words to come out properly. "I thought, we could move in together?"

"How did you get to that thought, angel?" He curses himself for the pet name that slips out. He didn't have to censor it _before_ , but now every time he uses it, there's a slight tinge of love that follows it. Like an afterthought. Like he finally doesn't have to worry about his side being upset with him.

Aziraphale takes a sip from his own glass of champagne before putting it down and seeking eye contact like his life depends on it. "Well, my dear, it's the logical next step in our... _Arrangement_ , don't you think?"

He says Arrangement like he means something else entirely. And Crowley is sure that he does. He knows he does.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, isn't it obvious?" Aziraphale is still looking at him with that intense look and Crowley has the urge to sober up. He can't deal with this drunk. So he says as much before concentrating to get all of the alcohol out of his blood stream.

Apparently the angel does the same, because his face turns into a grimace upon tasting that foul taste of too much alcohol on his tongue.

"I was under the impression that we had an arrangement that we were to help each other." Crowley finally says. Because it isn't as obvious what Aziraphale means, at least not to the demon.

Aziraphale's mouth drops open into a comical "o" shape and his eyes are filled with sudden understanding. "So you didn't...?" He leaves the sentence unfinished.

"I didn't? I didn't what?"

"I just... I guess I misinterpreted the... gravity of our... arrangement."

"You mean... You thought we...?"

"...were in a relationship? Yes. I mean, isn't it obvious, my dear boy? We have gone out to dinner and lunch so many times. And we always go to feed the ducks. And you have been here so many times. And you are always the first person I call when I feel..."

And suddenly it all clicks in Crowley's brain.

"I wasn't aware you felt this way, too," is what leaves his mouth finally, interrupting the angel in whatever he was going to say.

And the "too" doesn't seem to go by unnoticed, because all of a sudden Crowley has a lap full of angel. And said angel is hugging him and pressing his face into the crook of Crowley's neck, like he belongs there.

"Of course, my dear," comes the muffled voice from somewhere around his collar bone, "I guessed, you hadn't realized, my love, but it's been quite some time for me. I knew. I always felt this overwhelming presence of love whenever you were around and then... it took so long until I realized... but I never thought that you wouldn't know."

Crowley feels his breath catch in his throat and there are tears prickling in the corners of his eyes, stinging uncomfortably, but reminding him at the same time that this is actually happening right now. His arms quickly tangle around the angel in his lap, holding him and pressing him closer. So incredibly close not even a hair would have fit between them.

"When?" is what he finally brings himself to say. He doesn't know himself if it is a question of _when did you fall_ or _when did you know_. He doesn't care. He'll get one answer for sure.

He feels Aziraphale's lips move against the skin of his neck as he speaks and the words make goose bumps raise all over his skin. "I knew in the Blitz. 1941. You saved the books, not just me. That's when I finally realized what had been happening between us. I suspect it started so much earlier. I know now that I was falling for you when we saw Hamlet. But it might have already been Mesopotamia – the way you cared for the children... and the unicorn." - a startled laugh leaves Crowley's lips. Right, he had almost forgotten the unicorn. - "But it also might have started on that day in Eden, I'm not quite sure. But I know it now, and I don't want to waste more time than we already have...."

Crowley is a demon. There is this widespread thought that demons don't show any emotion other than anger (outside of tempting humans, of course). But now, Crowley is feeling happy and this is shown by the tears streaming down his face as he grins so bright, his cheeks start to hurt. He presses Aziraphale so much closer. Unbelievably closer.

He feels more than hears Aziraphale asking the "when". He feels the breath hit his neck right at the point where shoulder meets neck, feels the angel's lips move slightly around the word.

"That day in Eden. When I first noticed your flaming sword was missing. You just gave it away. And then you let me move under your wing when the rain started. Aziraphale – angel – it's always been like this."

"I'm sorry it took so long," he hears coming from his neck.

And that's when something inside Crowley snaps, he moves his arms around and with them the angel still on his lap. His hands cup Aziraphale's face gently and he looks him dead in the eye before whispering what he hasn't said before: "It's ok, because I love you."

It doesn't take a lot for Aziraphale to close the distance between their faces. A confessions of love from a demon – no, _your_ demon – might just do that to you. Their mouths fit perfectly together, as if they were made for each other. And in all they knew about the ineffable plan, maybe God just was such a cheeky little fucker, to make them perfect for each other and then decide to have one of them change stations from _up there_ to _down there_.

"And just for the record," Crowley starts as he finally has to draw away. Their breathes are harsh coming from their mouths, their lips pink and slightly swollen. Crowley can tell Aziraphale is looking at his lips, can't help himself to gaze at the angel's lips as well, just in time to see his tongue swipe over his bottom lip. It takes all of the strength Crowley has left to not just start kissing him again. "I would love it if you moved in with me."

Aziraphale's smile is so bright, Crowley just knows it'll be burned into his memory forever. Because after the apocalypse that wasn't, they now have eternity together.


End file.
